


Daisies

by nakadoo



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Freeform, High school days, M/M, Raijin Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakadoo/pseuds/nakadoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He spends the rest of the day with flowers in his hair and Izaya does as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daisies

Shizuo didn’t really understand it but to be fair there were a lot of things that he didn’t understand; girls were out of the question, obviously, he didn’t quite understand how their emotions work or how their train of thoughts went. But then again, he wasn’t really good at understanding other guys either and for a while he wonders if there actually is a fundamental difference between guys and girls.

But that’s besides the point.

He doesn’t understand why instead of kicking him while he’s down, he offers his hand to the person he hates most in the world.

Izaya Orihara, quick reflexes and a charming smile, eyes sharp and an even sharper tongue, was beaten and bruised and covered in ugly dark marks and cuts that make Shizuo’s stomach churn in a feeling he doesn’t know the name of (anger? Regret? Jealousy? Emotions are too hard to dissect and comprehend). Everyone knows it, and he often wishes for it to happen, to wrap his fingers around that slender neck and _squeeze_ the life away from his body like making a fresh glass of orange juice. 

Izaya definitely deserved what had come to him.

And maybe that’s why Shizuo doesn’t think he can do anything more. They’re only seventeen, not even legally adults. He can hope against hope that Izaya will seek redemption, to change his ways while he’s still young and while he still can and before it’s too late (too late? Is there really an expiration date to changing?).

He doesn’t say a word, he was never really one to speak anyway, and he doesn’t want Izaya to go rambling in some weird tangent that doesn’t make sense to anyone else but him.

Izaya stares at hand that’s offered to him and for three seconds Shizuo can see the authenticity of the raven’s expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging in silent bewilderment as if he couldn’t quite believe the situation he was in. The look is gone in an instant and it’s replaced with a smirk but there’s less edge to it than usual and he looks tired and lethargic and Shizuo’s pretty sure that the dark rings under his eyes aren’t bruises and more of the product of sleepless nights (insomnia is the word, Shizuo thinks but he’s not too sure).

When their hands make contact and lock together in a firm hold they’re both surprised that nothing happens, but more surprised that it had happened at all; they hate each other unconditionally and almost illogically and their touches should burn like scalding hot water not send sparks up their arms like two wires connecting and passing electricity.

Their hands stay linked for longer than necessary and it’s only when Shizuo gives a light tug (he thinks its light but he’s always stronger than he thinks) that they both snap out of whatever daze it was that brought them to silence. Izaya stumbles forward, nearly knocking into Shizuo but he was able to control his balance before he did. They let go of each others hands in a sudden movement, taking several steps backwards to put some distance between them (because if they didn’t put a distance people might assume they were friends, and they were far from being that).

When Shizuo turns around to walk away to head back home (because he’s got a pudding cup waiting for him there and he’s still pretty distrustful of leaving his sweets alone while his younger brother was there) he doesn’t expect the few hesitant sounding footsteps to follow him, almost as if they were uncertain of the choice they were about to make. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to check to see if Izaya is following him, because he knows and can feel it in his bones. He’s got some weird Izaya detector in his body and it’s beeping at him incessantly, getting louder and louder and _louder_ until he can practically feel the heat radiating off the Flea’s body because the Flea is too close, too close for comfort but he doesn’t quicken his pace or slow down or stop.

Izaya’s not too sure why he’s following Shizuo (more like trailing behind him like a nervous child) but he’s Orihara Izaya and Shizuo Heiwajima is nothing more than a monster so he picks up his pace until they’re walking side by side. It hurts to walk at that pace, his legs are sore and bruised and he’s limping and it’s not fair that Shizuo’s legs are longer than his.

He doesn’t want to go home, not yet, not when he knows that his sisters are there and awake and waiting for their brave and strong and cool older brother to come home when he looks like absolute shit. He was supposed to be their prince, after all, and what kind of prince would he be if he were to show his sorry state to them? He couldn’t afford to show himself battered and bruised to two seven-year-olds, didn’t want them to worry about him and he definitely didn’t want them to pity him in any way. They’re only seven, but he can’t afford to look like a loser in front of them. Not when he’s supposed to be an older brother who could protect them.

It’s a quiet walk and the sun is sinking into the horizon and oranges and yellows and even red rays of light paint the sky in a way that makes the world feel as warm as it looks. Their shoes shuffle over the hard granite of the road, and if Shizuo purposely slowed his pace so that Izaya didn’t have to struggle it went unacknowledged and ignored because neither of them wanted to say anything about it.

Finally Izaya’s voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife through butter, smooth and quiet and quick. “This isn’t the way to your home,” he states and it’s not a question because of course he knows where Shizuo lives, he has to know where the monsters den is so he could avoid it. That’s the only reason to it.

Shizuo wanted to argue, wanted to say “I don’t want you to know where I live,” but he knows its pointless because obviously Izaya already knows and he should probably feel angry about that fact but he wasn’t. He’s not sure why, his anger feels like it’s never belonged to him to begin with, and for some reason Izaya doesn’t really seem like Izaya.

If Izaya wasn’t being _Izaya_ then surely Shizuo could not be _Shizuo_ for a while.

He doesn’t answer Izaya because he doesn’t know what else to say but his feet lead him somewhere he hasn’t been to in a long time and for a moment he stills, looking over the playground he and Kasuka used to hang out at when they were younger. He stalks over, dropping his bag carelessly before taking a seat on the swing, kicking at the dirt underneath his feet to push him into motion. He moves slowly, languidly, his eyes looking up to meet Izaya’s in a wordless question. “Why are you following me?”

And Izaya, even though he often says he cannot understand Shizuo at all, understands the question Shizuo says with his eyes and replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t want to think about it either, because he’s supposed to hate the blond and he’s supposed to avoid him like the plague but he finds himself taking the swing beside him (because it would be awkward if he just stood there and watched, obviously) before mimicking Shizuo’s actions and kicks and kicks and kicks.

They spend a few minutes in silence, Izaya swinging much higher than Shizuo because he’s still got a bit of adrenaline running through his blood and too much energy despite the fact that his limbs are aching and complaining from the abuse they endured when a gang managed to corner him. There is power in numbers and no matter how good Izaya is with his flick blade he stands no chance against too many people coming at him at once.

When the sun finally sets and night falls before them, the street lights blinking into life in noisy clicks and clatters, they’re both idly sitting on their swings and looking up at the night sky. It’s still too early to see the stars but the deep dark blue color is almost soothing to look at and the chill that sweeps through the playground tousles their hair and makes Izaya shiver in the slightest while Shizuo just appreciates the serenity of the whole situation.

“There was a girl before,” Izaya stated suddenly, bringing Shizuo out of his thoughts. Izaya doesn’t know why the sudden urge to reminisce hits him but it does and he can’t stop himself from talking because he’s always been good at talking and he rather likes the sound of his own voice, even if his voice right now sounds rough and too quiet than it usually is. “She was always frowning and she never played with the other children.”

Shizuo reaches into his uniform pocket for a smoke. He’s still rather new to nicotine; he knows he looks silly when he holds a cigarette between his fingers because he’s still doesn’t know how to hold it properly and he still struggles to flick his lighter into life. He takes a long drag after the flame licks at the end of the cigarette and he exhales a plume of smoke above his head and he watches it disappear into the night.

He’s not sure why Izaya is telling him this, but he doesn’t really care.

“The other kids, y’know, they tried to make friends with her but she always declined. She always had a book and she’d always sit alone under the shade of a tree,” Izaya continued softly, looking up at the night sky as well because he sure as hell didn’t want to look at Shizuo’s face. “I thought she was like me; alone. So I always sat with her and I never really spoke to her but I always drove the other kids away when they looked like they wanted to bother us,” Izaya lets out a laugh then, quiet and full of fondness that makes Shizuo turn his head in curiosity. “I think that was the closest I’ve ever gotten to a real relationship.”

Shizuo snorts, shaking his head in disbelief before a chuckle actually escapes him. “Kinda sad, isn’t it?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure it’s not. It’s almost kind of cute. Shizuo’s never had any friends as a kid, so really his childhood was a sadder picture than that.

“Love at its most innocent form,” Izaya tells him softly. “I think it’s rather beautiful.”

Shizuo doesn’t deem him with a response other than a short nod of his head.

“I gave her a flower once, a small little daisy that I picked up on the way there. She used it as a bookmark and didn’t even say thank you, I felt offended,” he laughed again at the memory. “But every time she was at the playground she had it with her, so I assumed that she treasured it. Still, I wish she would have worn it in her hair or something.”

And for a moment Shizuo tries to picture a younger Izaya, trying his best to impress the nameless young girl that had apparently captured his heart. It was hard to believe considering who Izaya was now and Shizuo tries very hard to think of what could have gone wrong in Izaya’s life that he’d end up so twisted and crazy. He wondered what it would have been like if Izaya had stayed innocent and honest and offered flowers to the ones he liked instead of urging the ugliest of emotions out of them.

He doesn’t know what to say then, he doesn’t have any nice memories from his childhood to share because he’s never had friends who stuck. They were scared of him, scared of his strength and scared of his anger and he’s really lucky that Kasuka has never ever feared him. For a brief moment he thinks of his brother and his heart floods with gratefulness and unconditional love and _thank god_ that he was blessed with such a kind younger brother. 

Instead, he asks “what happened to her?”

Izaya shrugs his shoulders once more and he starts kicking at the dirt again to propel himself higher and higher. “She moved away,” he replied, his voice swinging with his body and it would have been funny but the situation didn’t call for laughter. “Never got her name and I’ve never bothered to try and look for her.”

“Too bad.”

“It’s life.”

And Izaya jumps off at the swings highest point, and for a moment it looks like he’s soaring through the air instead of falling. Of course he lands gracefully, he’s Izaya after all. “It’s late.”

“No shit.”

And Shizuo doesn’t say anything as he walks home, doesn’t say anything when Izaya follows him inside and into the kitchen. Stays quiet when he presses a cold water bottle against the bruise on Izaya’s face and helps him clean up whatever cuts he can manage. He doesn’t bother explaining to Kasuka why the person he hates most is sitting in their kitchen with a mug of tea in hand, sipping quietly as it if were normal for him to be over at the Heiwajima’s. And when he leaves Shizuo escorts him to the door, nods at him once instead of saying good night or good-bye and Izaya nods back at him as well.

Shizuo sleeps well that night, and he doesn’t know it but so does Izaya.

And when Shizuo finds a small bundle of daisies in his shoe locker the next few days he smiles, doesn’t say anything to anyone despite the hushed whispers he hears behind his back, buzzing like bees and its pretty funny since they're talking about flowers. He doesn’t say anything either when, at lunchtime, Izaya finds him on the roof with the bundle of flowers in his hands. He doesn’t complain when Izaya takes them from him and makes a flower crown with them and rests it upon his unruly blond hair like it belongs there. He stays quiet when he tucks two daisies behind Izaya’s ears.

He spends the rest of the day with flowers in his hair and Izaya does as well.

 

Maybe sometimes it was alright not to understand.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be longer, more dramatic, but this is fine.
> 
> Language of flowers: Daisies = Innocence
> 
> I might make another fic set years later. Izaya finds a pressed daisy in Namie's book and realizes that Namie was his childhood kind-of-girlfriend and they both get embarrassed about it.
> 
> [takes a break from Language Barriers because I don't know how to end that story]


End file.
